


the colour of his soul

by gothzabini (girl412)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Basically ignores CC, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Harry Potter Next Generation, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Introvert Teddy Lupin, M/M, it's different from my usual jamz, vaguely implied scorbus, who am i kidding it's heavily implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 06:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl412/pseuds/gothzabini
Summary: Teddy and James have always been perceived as a bit too much, but when it's just the two of them, everything is just right.





	the colour of his soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoldenTruth813](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/gifts), [TDCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TDCat/gifts), [butterbeerbitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterbeerbitch/gifts), [Thealmostrhetoricalquestion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/gifts), [LLAP115](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLAP115/gifts).



> I had a rlly big author's note but it all got deleted because my luck is horrible. so basically this fic is my first ever Jeddy fic & it exists because of [this conversation](http://goldentruth813.tumblr.com/post/177102144429/this-might-be-weird-and-i-hope-you-havent) and [this fic.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15492951/chapters/35965497) Read the conversation because i reference it at one point and I don't want that particular quote to be misattributed to me. There is also a piece of art that Teddy references. I'll give you the link to that in the notes at the end.
> 
> This fic is dedicated to those people without whom I wouldn't have written this (I've had Jeddy feels & ideas forever but thanks for being the push I needed to make them happen) as well as those people who've supported me and been there for me ( Chelsea, I am looking at you, because you're an actual angel.) special shoutout to my friend who comforted me when i cried over this (you know who you are! ily! )

Teddy wasn’t a rainbow – he was the entire fucking spectrum. He was used to fluidity by now, to the way he wore his moods through his features like a chameleon, and how anyone could tell what he was feeling by the colour of his hair or his eyes or the shape of his knuckles or the edge of his mouth. He’d taken Occlumency lessons from Draco back when he was nineteen and learnt how to rein his emotions in, but he was still learning to live in a body that couldn’t keep still. It felt like he was a hurricane wrapped up in skin.

It wasn’t as bad as it’d been when he was fourteen. Those had been days of fluctuation – each time he looked in the mirror, he’d seen a different face. There were nights when he’d made his hair grow out just to feel the satisfaction of snipping it short. There were days when he’d hidden out in all the secret places of Hogwarts, the ones that only truants know, and stared at his hands – his hands which were somehow more knuckles than fingers, and reminded him of tree branches. He’d never been able to find anything to explain it. His hair went grey when he was miserable, pink when Vic smiled at him, orange when he was on a broomstick, but when nobody was looking at him, it went black. In the letters he wrote to Andromeda (from whom he was certain he’d inherited snarkiness) he used to call it the colour of his soul. 

He knew what it was, to have all eyes on him – to be envied and yet ostracized. School had never been home for him, but he remembered summers spent at the Muggle park down the road, and girls who admired his pink hair, asking him if he’d dyed it at home and saying that he was lucky that his parents let him. Teddy never said anything to them. 

He grew up like that – phases of being misunderstood, and the permanent state of loneliness that somehow felt like a part of his personality. Things were more confusing since he turned fifteen, people yelling “ _pretty boy_ ” at him like it was an insult, touching his hair without asking, wolf-whistling, yelling innuendo in something that felt dangerously real and threatening. Teddy wondered sometimes, how many of these people thought they owned him, and one night, looking through the messages Vic had sent him over email (particularly the work of an artist that resonated with him), he’d yelled, angrily, “ _I’m not some vague fucking concept that you dreamed up!_ ” 

People had backed off after that. Everyone knew that the Lupin boy’s father had been a werewolf, and not everyone knew that it was impossible for metamorphmagi to become werewolves, thanks to the inbuilt structure of their genes. 

It wasn’t something that you outgrew, though.

Things were better in his twenties. He worked from home, as a magical consultant, and had a tiny flat that was on the outskirts of Wizarding London. His hair had stabilized to a weird magenta colour which Lily loved but Scorpius hated, and Teddy supposed all things considered, he had gotten rather lucky. He didn’t realise that he could get any luckier. 

**

Nineteen year old James Sirius was a lot of things, but if you had to make a list in order of importance, you would put restless first. He’d always been a little too much – outspoken, blatantly honest, unapologetic – and these attributes would remain a part of his demeanour for life. He was extremely extroverted, on good terms with his exes and very athletic. Albus often said that James was capable of being in multiple different places at the same time, a judgement which was very apt. 

Not many people could keep up with James. Everyone got along with him, definitely – but he was too energetic at times, and never seemed to need to recharge. He was universally liked, but also known as the epitome of “extra” – not necessarily in a bad way, more like “blimey, that kid has so many extracurriculars, how does he have time to even _breathe._ ”  

James seemed confident and fearless, but he wasn’t. And even though everyone thought he’d inherited his father’s obliviousness, James noticed things – things he’d never say out loud.  Things like how Lily would rather skive off school just to be close to the ocean and to her sailboat, and how Albus couldn’t look away from Scorpius. Things like the subtle shift in his parents’ relationship that made him suspect that divorce was a possibility; how they seemed to be holding things together solely for Albus and Lily. Things like how Hugo seemed happiest talking about magical creatures and Rose, judging by her reading material, was questioning her sexuality.   

Despite this never-ending flow of information to James’s brain, one person he was hyper aware of was Teddy. Maybe it was because of how dynamic the other boy was – he had different eyebrows every day, and James noticed that the more agitated he’d get, the curlier his hair got – but it was also because of how Teddy held himself. He rarely spoke too loud, and his smiles, though infrequent, were always genuine. Despite being much older than the younger kids, he spoke to them as if what they had to say was truly important. Once, at Christmas, when James was seven, Teddy had sneaked him extra pudding under the table. James couldn’t forget that if he tried.

Teddy was probably the kindest person James knew, but James also suspected that he was the saddest. Not sad in a profound or depressed way, but a more quiet kind of sad – something solemn. Something that was a part of him and how he loved people, like he knew the power of being good, or knew the extent of loneliness. Something about Teddy made James trust him intuitively and made him feel safe automatically, like a reflex. But sometimes Teddy looked like he was hurting, and James could see it in the expression of his eyes, more than in the colour. 

Even though he’d pondered it often, he couldn’t seem to figure out why. 

** 

Maybe Teddy and James were close. Maybe they weren’t. When you were six years apart and desperately introverted, you didn’t have many people you could count as unconditional friends, but any distance between them didn’t feel like much the night James broke into Teddy’s apartment via the fire escape, and said, in lieu of a hello, “Sorry, I didn’t know where to go. Mum and Dad just told us they’ve agreed to divorce. Al’s run off to the Malfoys’ house, and Lil’s in her boat. I needed to be away from them, you know?”

Teddy studied him for a minute. “Yeah,” he said eventually, and James could tell by his eyes that he understood. “I know.” 

They’d watched movies that night, and ended up on the floor, listening to Lorde together. 

“Al can’t stop humming this stuff,” James had said, halfway thru _Ribs._  

“Nor can Scor,” Teddy agreed. “Maybe it’s their playlist.” 

James smiled, and in the faded light of the end credits rolling on the telly, his face looked impossibly soft. “Guess it’s ours, now.” 

When they ran out of songs to listen to, James took one of Teddy’s hands idly. “You know, I always hoped we’d end up being best friends.”

Teddy smiled, aware that his hair was turning aquamarine at the tips but not bothered in the slightest. “I’m not very good at making friends, but you know that we still can be, if you want? We’ve got all the time in the world.” 

“Yes,” James said, leaning against Teddy’s shoulder. It felt natural, almost as if it were predetermined by some greater force. “Yes, please.” 

When they decided to call it a night, right before he fell asleep on the sofa (Teddy had decided to sleep on the floor, and _would not budge_ , despite James’s insistence that he sleep in his bed like a normal person), James reached out and trailed his fingers across Teddy’s forehead, which was broader than usual that night. 

“You’re not gonna be lonely anymore,” he’d slurred, too sleepy to enunciate properly but somehow still clear enough for Teddy to understand. “You’ve got _me_.” 

When Teddy woke up, his hair was aquamarine all the way. It didn’t bother him the way it would’ve done a few years ago. 

** 

James made it a point to visit Teddy every day after that, sometimes even bringing muffins or spiced coffee from the cafe down the road. It didn’t matter what they did –  and admittedly, sometimes they did _nothing_ – they seemed to find stability in each other’s presence. James fidgeted a lot less, and seemed calmer overall, and Teddy felt comfortable in his body in a way he was barely familiar with. When James looked at him, he saw _him,_ Teddy. He didn’t seem bothered by Teddy’s abilities, or even distracted by them. He’d occasionally comment on them (“your eyebrows look funky today, that’s lit”) but never in a way that made Teddy feel awkward about the whole thing. He considered them a part of Teddy, and he gave Teddy space to just be himself in a way that nobody his age had done before. 

Teddy was probably the only person who could keep up with James, letting him discuss the most obscure topics and offering input when needed, agreeing to play basketball with him in the rain, not questioning James’s sudden need to play Monopoly at 3AM. For the first time, James didn’t feel like _too much_ , he felt like enough – like there was a space carved out in Teddy’s life just for him, and he fit there like he was born to fit it.  

“It’s lonely, being different,” Teddy confessed one day, when James was sprawled on his sofa, and all the lights in the room were off. James’s laugh had seemed to come out of nowhere, but it was somehow gentle – definitely not mocking in any capacity. 

“It’s harder for you than for anyone else,” James had said, “because people fear what they don’t understand. But I sort of know what it’s like, too. I’m the eldest Potter boy, remember?” 

“As if I could forget,” Teddy said, somehow finding James’s hand in the dark. “You look just like your father, but you have your mother’s eyes.” 

“FUCK OFF,” James had yelled, but he’d been laughing, they’d both been laughing until James rolled off the sofa and fell on Teddy, effectively smothering him. They were silent for a moment, and then they began laughing again, lying there in the dark, just a heap of limbs. 

“I feel like we’ve been best friends all our lives,” James had said, when the laughing had finally stopped. 

Teddy had hummed in agreement, but he’d wanted to say, _I feel like we could be something more._  

** 

He didn’t need to say it, because one week later, James had walked in looking noticeably distraught. 

“What’s wrong?” Teddy had asked. 

“I like boys,” James had said, and even as he said the words, he looked surprised. “It just snuck up on me. I didn’t even know that I had the capacity to feel this way?” 

“How _do_ you feel?”  

James looked more uncertain than Teddy had ever seen him. “Promise not to hate me?” 

“As if I could ever,” Teddy said, not missing a beat. 

“I want to kiss you,” James said. “Only if that’s okay with you. You’re probably the most important person in my life right now – I don’t want to mess it up. Tell me if this makes you uncomfortable?”

“I’ve never done this with anyone before, so if you lose your tongue, I’m sorry in advance,” Teddy said, right before he leaned in, and with a gentleness that strongly contrasted his previous statement, kissed him. 

“I can’t believe that was mutual,” James said, after they broke apart. 

“Really? James Sirius, that was inevitable,” Teddy said, smiling. “This was meant to happen. What’s not to believe?”

“Your hair,” James said wondrously. “It’s Gryffindor red. Shit, did I do that?” 

“Yes,” Teddy said, closing his eyes as James ran his hands through the crimson hair that was red enough to be a Weasley’s and messy enough to be a Potter’s. “You did.” 

“I can’t believe no-one’s ever kissed you before,” James said, still running his hands through his hair. 

“I don’t exactly have many admirers,” Teddy said. “Or at least, nobody who really knows me.” 

“You have me,” James pointed out. 

“That’s all I need, honestly,” Teddy said, moving towards the kitchen, taking James’s hand. “Do you want some orange juice?” 

James smiled, something in his face very distant but simultaneously open. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.” 

Teddy gave him an involuntarily fond look. “That you will.” 

** 

In the next letter that Teddy wrote his grandmother, he mentioned that the colour of his soul was the colour of a campfire. He didn’t need to say that it felt like coming home – she knew how to read between the lines. 

**Author's Note:**

> [this is the art that Teddy references.](http://asoftwrongness.tumblr.com/post/164859019130/never-let-an-artist-paint-you-nice-and-pretty-in) I didn't get it verbatim but EH close enough. also if you haven't already seen this artist's work, i encourage you to do so - their stuff is marvelous. [here is my tumblr, if you wanna say hi.](https://gothzabini.tumblr.com/)


End file.
